


i think i've made my choice

by legacyconsole (lukissed)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dad Philza, Death, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Not A Fix-It, Respawn Mechanics, Video Game Mechanics, maybe someday ill fix it but not now, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukissed/pseuds/legacyconsole
Summary: “I’m so tired. Please.”“I can’t,” Phil’s voice was thick with tears, breaking, “you’re my son.”(aka, my own written version of some of the shit that went down on nov. 16th 2020.)
Relationships: Sleepy Bois Inc - Relationship, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 279





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit nov/20/2020 : edited some parts of the fic

The room was cramped, walls made primarily out of smooth stone. There was little light, just some crumbling glowstone embedded in the floor and ceiling. A single wooden chair sat in the middle of the room, in front of a button made of the same material. Deranged scrawlings spanned the walls, written in coal. The once hopeful lyrics were now haunting, looming above and around the two men in the room.

Phil stood in the doorway, staring at his oldest son, Wilbur. Wilbur stood in front of the button, ranting like a madman to no one but himself, tugging anxiously at his sleeves and chewing at his nails. Phil could see the man’s arms shaking. The sound of fireworks, though muffled, boomed from outside, alongside pained shrieks and cries. 

Wil didn’t seem to notice he was there, off in his own world. Phil had only arrived to the SMP minutes before, coming in right as shit began to hit the fan, battle breaking out. He had heard multiple cries of shock from down below as he flew in, and as much as he’d love to come in and help, he went straight to where he knew Wilbur was.

The fabled room wasn’t hard to find, really. The door was wide open, just a small hallway dug into a mountain with a tiny room at the very end. Still, walking down it made chills run down Phil’s spine. Looking around the room made his nerves worse, what with all the shit scribbled on the walls, so he just focused his attention on Wilbur and Wilbur only. 

In order to let the raving man know he was there, Phil took a deliberate step forward, making sure it was able to be heard.

Wilbur flinched intensely, cutting his own sentence short. He whipped his head around, expression blank, until he realized who it was. 

“A-ah.. Phil?” He said, voice breathy, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He took a few tentative steps towards his father, stumbling clumsily into the wooden chair, having to catch himself on it. Phil moved forward, hands outstretched to help catch him, even if he didn’t truly need to. 

It was just instinct, to try and help his son. No matter how old Wilbur or any of the brothers got, Phil would always be there to help them up.

“Mhm,” was Phil’s simple reply, accompanied by a blunt head nod. He retracted his hands, straightening out and crossing his arms. 

“I- wha.. how are you here, wh-when did you get here?” 

“Just recently, don’t worry about it. Whatcha got there?” Phil leaned his head to the side to look past Wilbur, at the button embedded in the wall. Wilbur blinked, looking back at the button with wide eyes. Then, he smiled.

“Do you know what this button is?” Wilbur scrambled back up into a stand, backing up towards the button. The smile on his face was just a little too wide, didn’t quite reach his eyes enough. He looked excited in the worst way possible.

“I do, yes,” Phil replied warily, tensed up, as if he was facing a wild animal and not his son.

Wilbur chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands together idly before gesturing widely at the lyrics scribbled across the stone walls. 

“Have you heard the- the song, on the walls, have you heard the song?” 

He had. He heard it, over call, right after Wilbur wrote it. Wil must’ve forgotten that Phil was one of the first people to hear the song. Despite it being not so long ago at all when he wrote it, it seemed like a lifetime ago now. The man who stood in front of him seemed like an entirely different person in comparison to the level headed, diplomatic man he knew. Wilbur may have had his times of chaos, but nothing like this. Never like this.

Phil wondered where he went wrong.

“Before you came in, I was saying- about this big point, it’s that,” Wilbur pointed at one of the lines, “‘I heard there _was_ a special place’, but y’know, it’s- it’s not there anymore.”

There was a brief silence, as more firework rockets boomed outside. Phil narrowed his eyes, glancing up briefly, knowing that the podium was more or less right above them. Just beyond the far wall was the rest of Manberg.

“Wil.. it is there, it’s still right out there. You just won it back, didn’t you?” Phil said cautiously, trying to get him to back down. 

As Phil was flying in, he heard all the speeches, heard how the presidency basically got passed on multiple times to multiple different people, before landing on Tubbo. He just assumed Schlatt was banished, jailed, or dead.

His words only made Wilbur more stressed, it seems, since the man visibly tensed up, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. He reached up and grabbed the sides of his head, gripping at his beanie and curly hair and tugging.

“Phil- I’ve been here so many times, so many times, like seven or eight, Phil. Just wanting to press this button-”

Wilbur was cut off as the fireworks grew closer. He scowled, mumbling something about not wanting to be interrupted as he took a couple of long strides towards the doorway. With just a couple of stray blackstone blocks, the exit was fully blocked. Just as quick as he got over to the door, he was back next to the button. 

“They’re fighting, they’re _fighting_ ,” His voice was hoarse, expression angrily grim as he looked back at the button. Phil took a careful step towards him. 

“And so you want to blow it all up,” Phil’s reply was blunt, clearly not wanting to entertain any of Wilbur’s ideas. Wilbur seemed to wilt a bit at this, dragging his hands over to cover his face, posture faltering.

“I do,” He whispered, haunted, “I think- I do.” His arms dropped to his side.

“You fought. So hard. So hard for this land,” Phil pleaded, taking yet another step closer to his son, trying to close the gap between them. Wilbur stared at him for a few tense moments, gripping at his sleeve.

Then, he took a step back, away from Phil. Back towards the button, he stared at his dad, his expression going stony. It was hard to hear him over the fireworks being shot outside. 

“Phil. There was a saying, I don’t know if I ever told you,” Wilbur looked almost wistful as he spoke, a small smile gracing his features, “by a traitor. Once part of L’manberg, you’ve heard of Eret.”

Phil nodded, not liking where Wilbur was going with this at all. 

“He had a saying, Phil.”

Wilbur’s smile grew bigger, voice going light in a way that he hadn’t heard from his son in ages. He seemed happy, as he turned his back on his family and reached for the button. 

“It was never meant to be.”

_No!_

Phil lunged for Wilbur, but it was too late. He pushed the button, and immediately the familiar, dreadful sound of TNT hissing from inside the walls could be heard. Within a second, there was a chain of cacophonous explosions as all the strings of TNT laced under the ground detonated. Wil turned around with a grin on his face and his arm posed in a patriotic salute as the explosions blew behind him. Phil faltered, watching in pure horror as he saw the wall get blown away, allowing him a perfect view of the city being blown to smithereens.

People’s screams echoed through, barely heard over the explosions. Phil could pick out specific voices if he listened hard enough, especially Tommy. He heard Tommy screaming for his lost country, people screaming to run, screams of fear and terror and loss. 

“Oh my god!” Phil gasped, scrambling towards the edge of the room. There was now a substantial drop, leading into the huge crater that once was L’Manberg. Fire now lapped at the landscape, starting to take out what little was left of the area around the podium. Water poured from the lake and any small ponds that laid beneath the soil, making the landscape a mixture of both heat and mud. He saw a few people, from both sides, escaping the area, carrying the wounded. 

“It’s all gone..”

Phil heard Wilbur sigh behind him. He turned to look at his son, not even bothering to mask any of the horror he felt. Wilbur had a wide grin on his face, but.. there were tears, streaking down his face. They paved clean paths through the dirt on his face. He watched in shocked silence as he watched Wilbur fall to his knees and begin to weep.

“Phil.. Phil, Kill me.”

Wilbur pleaded, his chest heaving with weighty breaths, voice cracking with emotion. His dark circles and all the dirt and blood smeared across his face was illuminated by the fire blazing to the man’s side. The crater in the mountain revealed the two men and what was left of the room that held the infamous button.

His smile was positively bone chilling, not reaching his eyes. Arms outstretched in a vulnerable pose, as if he was asking for a hug and not for his father to slay him where he stood. Not a single bit of armor was seen. The only thing Wilbur did was summon a diamond sword, glimmering with enchantments, only to throw it at his father’s feet. 

Phil stared down at his son with a conflicted, solemn expression. Any words he had got stuck in his throat. He made no move to pick up the sword, not even glancing down at it.

“Phil. Please. Kill me,” He begged, stance faltering as his exhaustion began to catch up to him. He collapsed down somewhat, letting his arms fall to his side, his sobs picking up in intensity. His grin fell, leaving a tearful expression in its wake. 

“I’m so tired. Please.” 

“I can’t,” Phil’s voice was thick with tears, breaking, “you’re my son.”

“Come on. Look at them,” Wilbur gestured towards the small crowd watching them, from a small untouched part of land. At the front was Tommy, watching his father and eldest brother with a horrified expression.

“They all want me dead, can’t you see? Look what I’ve done to their land. All of that hard work, all of that fighting, all for nothing. _Kill me._ ”

Phil locked eyes with Tommy, staring at his youngest son, before looking back down at Wilbur. At the edge of his vision, he saw the sword, glowing. Wilbur was pleading, sobbing, face red and tired. A man who had given up, who knew it was his end. If Phil didn’t do it, someone else would. Another war, a mob, maybe even himself.

The least Phil could do was grant him his wish. He crouched down and picked up the sword, keeping his eyes on Wilbur. 

“Wilbur. No matter what you do, or have done, you will always be my son,” Phil whispered, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady and strong, for his son.

Wilbur smiled with a wet gasp as Phil stabbed the sword into his chest, right in his gut. A cough escaped his lips, alongside crimson blood. He looked down and started to laugh, weakly, at the sight of the enchanted sword sticking out of his abdomen. Phil winced at the blood, nausea rising in his throat. Usually he had no problem with blood, he saw plenty of it, but.. this was his son's blood. He stabbed him.

Wanting to get it over with as quick as possible, not wanting his son to suffer, Phil yanked the sword back out and stabbed it in again, this time through his ribs and into a lung. Wilbur jerked with another gasp as the sword slid in, laughs fading out, replaced with labored breaths. His expression was pinched in pain, smile gone as quick as it had came. He looked up at his father with glossy, faded eyes, consciousness already fading as blood poured from his wounds, staining the neutral stone sanguine.

"Ph.. Phil," Wil's words were slurred together, barely even coherent. Phil shushed him, bringing him close in a loose hug, letting him bury his face in his shoulder. The two men lowered to the ground, Phil still holding Wilbur in his arms as the younger sobbed.

Phil hadn't held Wilbur like this in years, not since Wilbur was young, when he still got nightmares and chills that left him achingly cold. It was an awkward fit, what with Wilbur being several inches taller than his father now, not to mention the sword still sticking out his chest, but Phil still held him with as much care and love as he could. He ignored the feeling of his son's blood soaking his clothes, instead just running his fingers through Wilbur's curls and shushing him.

"Thhh.."

"Sshh, don't speak, it's- it's alright."

"Thank.. you. Dad."

_WilburSoot was slain by Ph1lzA._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not 100% canon compliant but i simply do not care. originally i had phil beheading wilbur for a quick death but then wilbur confirmed "oh yeah its canon phil stabbed him to death" so i had to edit to so i would not be Incredibly canon incompliant. this makes it sadder anyways


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im gonna be honest with u i do not find this chapter any good but i wanted to post it regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit nov/20/2020 : edited this chapter to include tubbo as one of the brothers, plus some edits to the beginning to connect with the edits on the previous chapter.

Wilbur went limp in his father's arms, all life fading from his body. He did not turn to dust, as people usually did, to let them respawn. He was just a body now, a corpse. No sign of coming back.

Phil didn’t hear anything but the rush of his blood in his ears and his rapid heartbeat. He didn't want to let go of Wilbur, wanting to cling onto what was left of his son for as long as possible, but he knew he was gone. He had to go help the sons he had left.

As he started to move back, repositioning himself to gently lay Wil's corpse down (he would have to come back for him later, to get him for burial), his fingers brushed against something solid in one of the many pockets in the trench coat.

Curious, he dug into the pocket and procured a single, written book. It was glowing purple and bound together with what seemed to be the tattered remains of an old, red scarf. It was partially drenched in blood, staining and wrinkling the pages, but Phil ignored it. On the inside of the front cover was Wilbur's shaky, messy signature. There could be valuable information in here, information he could use to help Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo.

To Phil's disappointment, the inside was incredibly sparse, most pages completely empty. The only thing written inside aside from the signature was-

“Technoblade is the traitor.”

It was like all his senses came back to him. His tunnel vision dissipated and the roar of his heart thudding was suddenly hardly a whisper amongst the sound of the country crumbling around him. He could distantly hear people talking, shouting at each other about god knows what.

In a flash, Phil unfolded his wings, shooting out like a rocket out of the room through the hole blown in the wall. 

Across the main crater stood Tommy and Techno, staring each other down. Both had swords in their hands, and full sets of Netherite armor, enchantments etched into every piece. A shallow crater separated the brothers. Several people, just as kitted out as the brothers, stood on each side, ready for a fight.

Phil’s heart clenched at his other two boys looking at each other with such hatred. God, no, he had just lost Wil, just killed him with his own hands- he couldn’t lose them too.

“So, if you want to be the hero, Tommy,” Techno’s voice was clear, in his usual monotone, though there was an obvious underlying hostility to it. There were people trying to speak over him, but he refused to be interrupted. He stepped back, and it was then that Phil noticed.

Two piles of soul sand, each with two wither skulls sat atop them.

“Then DIE LIKE ONE.”

Phil yelled in protest just as Techno placed the final wither skull atop a pile of soul sand, dread filling his veins as the wither began to form. The other skull on the second pile was placed shortly after, and before anyone had any time to run, there were two withers on the loose.

Everyone was screaming, once again. 

The wither battle was chaotic. It lasted hours, even with the amount of people they had fighting against them. What little was left of the area around the podium was torn apart and left in complete ruins. The room that held Wilbur's body had collapsed at some point, much to Phil's dismay. He didn't get much time to think about it, what with the two withers stealing away his attention. Only places on the outskirts of L’manberg survived. 

By the end, everyone was exhausted, covered in sweat, dirt, blood, ash. No one was without injury, and there was a lot of close calls. Respawning may have been a thing, but it was still to be avoided. Techno had disappeared off somewhere partway through.

When the second wither finally fell, Phil couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He was bone tired, already knowing he was going to be sore in the morning. He tried to relax by leaning against the obsidian flagpole, one of the only things left undamaged by the war. 

He didn’t get to relax for long.

“PHILZA!” Two young voices cried out in happiness.

Phil let out a pained oof as he felt the energetic force of his youngest sons bowl into him, arms wrapping around his middle and a face buried in his shoulder. A young woman trailed behind them, smiling weakly.

“Oh, god, Hi Tommy, Tubbo,” Phil wheezed, trying not to cry out in pain as he felt one of them squeeze right on a sensitive part of his bruised ribs. Despite his pain, he squeezed back, idly noting how skinny the two boys had gotten while he was gone. And how tall Tommy had gotten, what the fuck, why were so many of his sons taller than him.

“When the hell did you get so tall?” Phil joked as Tommy pulled back from the hug. Tubbo still clung on. Phil had to look up somewhat to actually look his kid in the eyes. Tommy grinned, though it was lacking most of his usual energy.

“Look at me now. I’m taller than you, does this mean I get superiority?”

“Absolutely not.”

The two of them joked for a bit longer, Tommy affectionately calling him old as always. After a few seconds, Phil looked past Tommy at the woman who had been tailing his sons, who stood there nervously, fidgeting with the cloak that partially covered her.

He smiled at her, realizing who she was fairly quickly.

“You're Niki, right? ..Wilbur told me about you.”

Phil’s smile turned melancholy at the mention of Wilbur, for good reason, but the other 3 didn’t seem to get it.

“Oh, yes, I am! It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” Niki held out her hand, after she wiped off some stray blood on her dark ripped pants. He shook it, waving her off with the other hand.

“No need for any sirs or misters. Just call me Phil.”

“Speaking of Wilbur,” Tubbo cut in fairly suddenly, worming his way out of Phil's hug to look around the area, “where is he? We haven’t been able to find him, and you were the last one to see him.”

Phil’s expression went solemn, somewhat confused.

“You guys.. didn’t.. have you guys checked your notifs? The vitals? Didn't you see..?”

“No?” 

Oh no.

Phil’s frown increased as all three of them pulled out their communicators. He thought they already knew. Didn’t they watch him do it? Didn't they see how Wil's body didn't turn to nothing, didn't respawn? Or did Techno steal away their attention sooner than he thought?

All three of their faces fell, with varying degrees of shock, horror, and grief. Niki covered her mouth with one hand, tears filling her eyes, Tommy stared in silent horror, and Tubbo seemed shocked, confused. 

Tommy looked up at Phil after a few tense moments, the gears turning in his head.

“You- Phil- you permakilled-?” The teen stammered, voice cracking slightly.

“I.. I’m so sorry. It’s what he wanted, otherwise I wouldn’t have, I promise.”

“Permakill? But.. shouldn't he respawn? I know he set his bed, we all made sure to," Tubbo looked the most confused and lost.

Niki shook her head silently, bowing her head to try and hide the tears that were falling down her face. Tommy looked like his entire world was just turned on its head, and in a way, it had. His oldest brother was dead, and the other eldest wanted him dead.

“No, Tubbo,” Phil started to calmly explain, shoving his emotions on the backburner to be able to speak clearly, “to respawn you need to want to respawn. You need a will to live. Wilbur.. all Wilbur wanted was to die. He was too far gone and he knew it. If I didn’t do it.. someone else would. Maybe himself. He wanted it to be me. I don’t think he’s coming back. I’m sorry.”

Despite his best efforts, he felt tears start to burn at his eyes and his heart grow heavy. It was near unbearable, watching as Tommy and Niki began to mourn as Tubbo tried to understand.

Without any warning, Tommy fell to his knees, dropping his communicator in the ash covered grass. He trembled as he silently sobbed, wishing to whatever god was out there to give his brother back. He may have fought with him, not agreed with him, but he didn’t hate him, didn’t want him dead. He wanted Wilbur back.

Niki was by his side immediately, followed closely by Phil. Phil wrapped his arms around the teen in a tight hug, allowing him to hide and cry into his chest. Niki rubbed comforting circles on his back, while Tubbo had begun to cry as well. The reality of what was happening had dawned on the boy. He fell into a sit on the grass as well.

Silently, Phil shifted Tommy into one arm, while he opened the other for Tubbo. The boy whimpered and dove into the hug.

Phil and Niki shared a tearful look, both of them mourning the loss, but needing to stay strong for those younger. They then focused their attention on the teens, who had both been through more than anyone should ever go through, much less as children.

From atop one of the many towers, Technoblade watched. He had already seen the notification, the death message, how his brother's name was no longer on the list of living. But he didn’t want to believe it, believe that his older brother was really gone, until he got proof.

Watching his father cry was proof enough. Wilbur wasn’t coming back.

He nearly didn’t notice the tears starting to run down his face, until the warmth of them fogged up the binoculars he was using. He stared at the binoculars in shock, before touching his face.

Techno couldn’t remember the last time he cried, and yet now, he felt as if someone had ripped his heart out. Wilbur was gone.

There was nothing anyone could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u think im cool check out legacyconsole.tumblr.com (thats me) and mayhaps give me a little follow. as a treat. also, just to get it out of the way: i do find the canon 3 lives rule to be cool to a degree, but i decided for my own personal headcanon that it goes out the window in favor of the "will to live" mechanic. i think it fits better overall, and also this way i dont have to decide which deaths are canon and which arent.


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